


lazy morning

by itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualday)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Bad Puns, Banter, Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Not Explicit Hand Job, Swearing, i'm personally offended that that isn't a tag, walking around naked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmyusualday/pseuds/itsmyusualphannie
Summary: phil is a good bf and makes breakfast for dan. dan repays him by jumpscaring him. (then dan makes up for it)phil will never finish his coffee at this rate





	lazy morning

The smell of eggs drifted through the flat as Dan slowly woke. He lay sprawled across the bed, an arm slung across Phil’s pillow and the other crushed under his stomach. He blinked blearily, lifting his head and shaking off threads of sleep. He could hear faint music drifting into the room. Groaning, he shoved his face into the pillow for a moment and breathed in Phil’s musky scent before he resigned himself to getting up. He kicked at the blankets tangled around his legs, shoving them across the bed, then crawled across the sheets and stumbled to his feet.

He didn’t bother putting on any more clothes. It was just warm enough to go wandering around the flat with nothing but pyjama bottoms and the fading bitemarks on his collarbone. Still half-asleep, he banged his toe against the doorframe as he walked out of the room.

“Fuck,” he muttered, wincing. He took a few seconds to shake out his throbbing foot, then headed for the kitchen.

Phil was in front of the stove, humming along to the song playing from his phone on the counter as he scraped at a skillet. His hair was a mess and he wore a baggy grey shirt with comfortable-looking Star Wars pyjamas. In fact, Dan knew that they were comfortable, as he’d stolen them on occasion.

Dan made his way across the room, bare feet pressing quietly into the floor. He sidled up behind Phil and plastered himself to Phil’s back, slipping his hands around Phil’s waist.

Phil jumped, the scraper skidding in his hand, but he regained control of the utensil. He nudged an elbow at Dan in reprimand.

Dan buried his face in Phil’s neck, grinning. There was nothing like a good jumpscare to start off a morning. He played absently with the long cords at the front of Phil’s pyjama bottoms.

“Good morning,” Phil said, the judgment clear in his voice.

“Hmm,” said Dan. Mornings were not good, even if it probably wasn’t even morning by now. The sun rays that drifted in the window and painted Phil’s neck a pale silver looked like more like the light of early noon.

“I’m making omelettes.” Phil scraped at the pan some more. “The first one is almost done.”

“Hmm,” Dan said again. He leaned more heavily against Phil, the warmth of him soothing. Nudging his toes up against Phil’s socks, he hummed in satisfaction and then dipped his fingers beneath the elastic of Phil’s pyjamas. The soft skin at Phil’s waist burned against the tips of his fingers.

“Your hands are cold,” Phil complained mildly.

“You’re warm. Don’t hoard your...hotness.” Dan was not good at speaking in the first hour after waking.

Phil flipped the omelette in the skillet, and the butter in the pan sizzled and popped at the movement. “Do you want to make some coffee?”

“Mm.” Dan considered letting go of Phil’s warm body to turn on the coffeemaker. The thought didn’t appeal. “No. Don’t.”

Phil left poking at the omelette to reach down and wrap his long fingers around Dan’s chilled hands. It really was ridiculous how cold Dan would become when he left the bed. Testing, he took a step sideways.

Dan went with him, shuffling to keep up.

“I’m going to make coffee then,” Phil warned him. He headed for the cupboard and Dan made a noise of protest but stumbled along behind him, grip tightening around Phil’s waist.

“Whyyy,” Dan whined, to no avail. Phil fetched the coffee and started the machine, moving relentlessly but slowly enough for Dan to keep up. He returned to the stove, taking the omelette off the heat and starting another.

Dan grumbled angrily into Phil’s neck once he’d finally stopped moving about.

“It’s your fault you’ve just been dragged around the kitchen,” Phil told him. “Life would be easier if you weren’t a koala.”

“Your mum’s a koala.” Dan tucked his fingers under Phil’s waistband again, as they’d slipped free, and he slumped heavily against his back. He yawned hugely, damp breath wafting across Phil’s pale skin.

“Tired?” Phil asked, pointlessly.

“No, I’m wide awake,” Dan muttered.

“Katy Perry,” Phil laughed.

Dan caught a little roll of skin just above Phil’s crotch between two fingers and pinched it harshly. Phil yelped and slapped Dan’s hand, almost hitting himself in the groin.

As if on cue, the Troye Sivan song that had been playing on Phil’s phone ended and ‘Roar’ came on.

Dan groaned. “Ugghh, why is this on your playlist?”

“It’s on shuffle,” Phil defended himself. “And it’s a good song.”

“Maybe if you’re twelve,” said Dan, pinching Phil again.

Phil stomped on Dan’s foot. “ _Stop_.”

“Ow,” Dan whined.

“I’m making your breakfast, don’t be an asshole.”

Dan sighed, running a thumb soothingly over the skin he’d pinched. He still had mixed feelings about Phil’s habit of never wearing underwear under his pyjamas. On the one hand, it was quite convenient. On the other, it was quite  _distracting_ , especially when he was trying to stay annoyed. His fingers brushed over the soft hair at Phil’s crotch and he let them tangle and snag in it, considering the merits of attempting to remain grumpy.

Phil seemed oblivious, flipping the omelette in the pan and watching the butter frizzle at it, but Dan could feel his stomach muscles tense under the touch. A smirk tugged at Dan’s lips and he let his hand drift lower. He cupped Phil and began moving his hand with purpose.

“Dan,” Phil tried to warn, but it came out breathy. His fingers flexed around the spatula and he dropped it involuntarily into the skillet. He gave in almost immediately, letting himself slump against Dan and his head fell back onto Dan’s shoulder.  Dan’s other hand moved to join the first, working steadily to pull Phil apart.

Dan turned his head and huffed a laugh into Phil’s hair. The music playing in the background sounded ridiculous and absolutely inappropriate for this. That wasn’t enough to make him stop, though, especially not with the little whimpers Phil was making like they were punched out of him. Phil pressed back against him, jolting with every movement of Dan’s hand, and Dan couldn’t help grinding into him, just a little.

They should know better by now than to do this while cooking, but it never stopped either of them. The omelette was definitely burning by the time Dan was pulling his hands out of Phil’s pyjamas, a satisfied smile on his face. He wiped them on Phil’s shirt. Phil didn’t protest, leaning so heavily on Dan that Dan didn’t dare move or he might fall over.

Dan let him recover for another few long moments, then nudged him. “Your omelette’s done.”

“Shit,” said Phil, but didn’t move to do anything about it.

Still pressed up against Phil, Dan pushed him forward, closer to the stove. “Make another one,” he said. “I’m going to shower.”

“ _I_ need to shower,” Phil protested, but reluctantly pulled away from Dan to dispose of the ruined omelette. Dan left the kitchen, yawning loudly. The shower started up a few minutes later.

Phil hastily assembled another omelette, letting it cook while he filled two mugs with coffee. He had just lifted the mug to his lips when he heard Dan’s bellow from the bathroom.

“Phil, where the fuck are all of my clothes?”

“Oh,” said Phil. He called back, “I put them in the wash!”

Dan came into view, a towel wrapped around his waist and rubbing vigorously at his hair with another. He stopped to level Phil with a disbelieving stare. “You washed _all_ of my underwear?”

Phil considered that and shrugged helplessly. “It was all dirty?”

Dan scoffed and towelled at his hair again.

“You can wear mine,” Phil offered.

“Gross,” said Dan, as if he hadn’t already worn pretty much every piece of clothing that Phil owned, including his underwear.

Phil took a sip of his coffee and instantly burned his tongue. He grimaced, waving a hand at his mouth. “Ouch. Dan. You’ve just had your hand down my pyjama bottoms. It can't get any more gross than that.”

Dan gave him a judgemental stare and rubbed the towel over his head. “It’s different.” He wandered out of the kitchen.

Phil looked down ruefully at his soiled pyjamas. He probably should have waited to do the laundry. He raised the mug to his lips and promptly burned his mouth again. “Ow, fuck.”

“No worries.” Dan’s voice drifted back into the kitchen. “I’ll just wear my...oh. Damn it, Phil!”

Phil didn’t answer, too busy ducking his head under the tap and running cool water over his tongue.

Dan rejoined him a minute later, shamelessly and completely naked as he strode into the room and grabbed a plate with an omelette. Phil, having just gotten his coffee to a medium temperature, dribbled his mouthful of liquid right back into the mug. “Dan!” he said.

Taking a calm bite of his omelette, Dan met his gaze unhesitatingly. “What?”

“You -” Phil flapped a hand. “You’ve got nothing on.”

“Oh?” said Dan. “I hadn’t noticed. Hmm. Good omelette.”

“Thanks,” Phil said automatically. “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”

“You washed all of my underwear,” Dan complained. “I can’t just... _not_ wear them. My balls are sensitive, Phil.”

“Oh, are they?” Phil, completely done with trying to drink his coffee, dumped the contents of his mug into the sink. “So clearly, you can’t wear any jeans?”

Dan shook his head slowly. “No. They’re scratchy.”

“And no shirt?”

“I couldn’t find any.” Dan blinked owlishly. He took another bite of his omelette.

Phil looked very disapproving, which Dan found entirely unfair. It wasn’t as if Phil had never wandered around the flat wearing nothing.

“You’re washing the dishes,” Phil said eventually. He finished his own omelette in a few large bites and left the room, presumably to take a shower.

Dan called after him, “I used up all of the hot water!”

“You were gone fifteen minutes! How?”

Dan grinned, sipping his coffee. “I am a man of many talents.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [itsmyusualphannie.tumblr.com](https://itsmyusualphannie.tumblr.com)!


End file.
